


Borrowed Time

by orphan_account



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Max is sure he's losing it, Mild Language, Nux Lives, Rough Sex, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max sets out on his own again, but the dead still follow him.</p><p>More tags to be added as the work progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeing Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, guys, this is my first work. It's been a long time since I've written anything. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. Not sure how long this work will be. Since it's my first time, probably not more than a few chapters. Feedback and suggestions are chrome.
> 
> This first chapter is pretty short, I'm hoping to make the next ones longer. Still kind of getting a feel for storywriting. Thanks for reading!

    It had been about three weeks, Max estimated, since he'd left the Citadel. Furiosa had sent a few War Boys after him when he had gone, and they'd delivered him some supplies, including an Interceptor. Not his, of course--that had been totaled along with a few passengers. He wasn't particularly sentimental about the model, but it was nice to be driving something he was more or less familiar with, and ran pretty well. When he had first gotten into it and cranked the engine, a pair of bright blue eyes and a gravelly voice had flashed through his mind.  
  
    More of the dead come to haunt him.  
  
    But no. That had been Nux's decision. Moreover, it had been the right one. Max didn't know about Valhalla or Heaven or any of that, but he hoped the kid at least got some peace in death.  
    He'd been skirting settlements. The Interceptor was loaded with enough food, water and ammunition to last him for a little while, and the more he stayed away from settlements, the less ammo he'd likely lose anyway. Settlements weren't common, but they were tight knit, and they didn't trust drifters or strangers. That was smart. He could respect that.  
  
    Unfortunately, that meant he also didn't know much about the surrounding area. He was keeping up on his map, but little dots marking settlements didn't tell him if there were raiders around, or warlords, or any other manner of trouble. Or resources. He just had to find that stuff alone. It could be worse.  
  
    Being a lone vehicle anywhere was pretty much a beacon for trouble, and skirting settlements wasn't enough to always keep him out of the natives' hair. The bigger groups ran patrols, and usually shot first and asked questions later. The Interceptor was turbo-charged, courtesy of some black thumb in the Citadel, though, so he managed to outrun or outmaneuver (or a combination of the two) most of the patrols that chased him. Eventually, he switched to a night schedule. All night was spent driving, usually with his headlights out, and during the day he camouflaged his car with some dirt and sand and a worn tarp he'd found, and caught some restless sleep.  
  
    It was about the sixth day of the third week that he came up on a mountain range. It was a particularly dark night, and he frowned, looking up at the rocky, steep geology in his way. No way the Interceptor was going to climb all that. Well, no use sitting here looking at the mountain like an idiot. He picked a direction at random (right, not that it particularly mattered), and set out to find a pass or maybe a road. Both would be dangerous to pass through, who knew who they belonged to, but he couldn't follow the range forever. He'd run out of supplies in about three weeks, he estimated, if he was conservative.  
  
    He expected to see a settlement or a camp sometime soon. The next night, though, he found something he didn't expect.  
  
    Stopped at the base of the mountains was a car in the style of the War Boys--characterized by a lancer perch complete with handles, all-terrain tires and as many chrome pieces as could be fitted onto it. Max approached cautiously. Just because it was a familiar style didn't mean it was a familiar driver. It could be anyone; stolen from the War Boys, perhaps, or a rogue kid leftover from the fighting still trying to die historic and finding somewhere else to do it. Nevertheless, against his better judgement, he pulled up behind an outcropping of rock a few hundred yards east of it and killed the engine. He quietly got out and shut the door gingerly, then crept up the rocks, moving slowly and staying low. His binoculars were pretty high-powered, and when he peered through them he could see the car in better detail. There was no movement around it. Max hunkered down to wait.  
  
    It only took about an hour. A foot kicked the door open. A pair of long legs preceded a skinny, tall torso, and long arms. If he had been the excitable type, Max would have dropped the binoculars. He just stared.


	2. You Can Take the Boy Out of the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max catches up on Nux, the Citadel, and what makes a ghost leave home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last chapter was way too short. So here's another, longer one! Hope it makes up for that lazy first chapter.

His delusions had never been this intricate before. They were always sudden, stressful. He knew they weren't real, but they sneaked up on him creatively enough that he couldn't help but react to them most of the time. Voices in his head that he knew weren't real. This was entirely different, and he was afraid it meant he had finally, really and truly lost it. Because he didn't know if this was real. Was the car in his head too? Or was Nux the only part of this he was imagining?  
  
He continued to watch, dumbstruck, as the War Boy shuffled around his car and popped open the hood to rummage around in the engine. It was too far away to hear anything. Max blinked a couple times, took the binoculars down to rub his eyes. When he looked again, Nux was still there, elbow deep in mechanics. No blood, no screaming, no, "Where were you, Max?" Maybe it was because Nux's death hadn't been his fault. It was an unfortunate situation, that was all. Could be he was just sad, and this was his psychosis' way of handling a death that wasn't his fault, for once.  
  
Watching Nux do the thing he loved most. Well, maybe second most. It was calm, would have been comforting if it hadn't been something he made up in his head. What kind of games was his head playing with him? He set the binoculars down again and watched for a moment without an aid. Maybe he wasn't imagining it and it was another War Boy. They all looked pretty similar, and he hadn't seen the kid for several weeks. Hadn't known him long, either. Or he was trying to see things he wasn't seeing, searching subconsciously for a familiar face. He hadn't seen anyone in days.  
  
It was almost half an hour of battling with his mental state before he realized sitting here spying wasn't a good way to handle the situation. He slipped back down behind the rocks he was hidden behind and went back to his car to open the door and look around in the cab. Furiosa had given him a few weapons, including a high powered rifle with plenty of ammo. Whoever it was in the car, if it was anyone at all, probably didn't have that kind of weaponry available, and if he could surprise him while the War Boy was still in his engine, he could get a good look, and figure out what he was doing there.  
  
He walked quickly, but quietly, keeping the rifle and his eyes on the sights until he got close enough to look over top of them and have a sure shot. The War Boy (and it was definitely a War Boy, with a shaved head, black utility pants, and white war paint all over) was absorbed in his work, and as Max approached, a loud metallic _clang_ echoed from the car and the War Boy cursed, leaning over further to reach in and retrieve his tool. God, but he _sounded_ like Nux. As he straightened, Max took the final step to close the distance between the muzzle of the rifle and the back of the boy's neck. "Turn. Slow," Max growled, flicking the safety off. His finger hovered near the trigger, not curled around it but ready to do so.  
  
Tension made the muscles in the boy's back bunch, but he wisely dropped the ratchet wrench. Made his hands visible. Turned like he was instructed.  
  
"Bloodbag!"  
  
Max had never seen someone look so happy on the wrong end of an SKS. He lowered the rifle, but his expression didn't soften.

Up close, Nux looked a little worse for wear. He had a healing burn that looked like it started below his beltline on his left leg and blossomed upwards, marring the edge of his chest scarification and a good part of his forearm. Besides that, yellowing bruises splotched his torso and arms, and probably his legs, too, and it looked like he'd had the right side of his face rubbed in broken glass. There was a big bandage on his left bicep, and smaller gashes here and there, but mostly scabbing cuts.

Better than being dead, Max caught himself thinking.  
  
Of course, he had only a second to take all this in. Almost as soon as he'd lowered the rifle, Nux was in his space, his face uncomfortably close as he reached up to Max's head and jostled him (Max thought perhaps he was trying to ruffle his hair), then grabbed him by his shoulders, bumping his forehead against Max's. Small stars exploded in his vision. "I've been looking for you! Immortan Furiosa said you came north, but she had to show me which one north is. Thought I wouldn't catch up to you." He finally released Max and looked around. "Where's your ride, huh? She said she sent you off with a real shine ride."  
  
Max grunted an affirmation and jerked his head in the direction of the rocks he had parked behind.  
      
Nux glanced that way, then turned a blinding grin on Max. "Chrome. I fixed this one up myself on the way. Well, bring it over! No, that's better cover. Jump up, I'll bring us over there," he rambled, and before Max could stop him, slammed the hood and was at the driver's door. "You'll have to ride on the lancer's perch, there ain't any room for passengers," he said as he clambered in, and gestured to the step on the back. "Well? What, you wanna walk?"  
  
Max stared at Nux searchingly the entire time, but at the prompting shook his head and climbed up as well. He didn't much like talking. Nux did a lot of it, so he didn't have to. He had questions, but he guessed they could wait until he figured out how to ask them.

It was only a couple hundred yards, but but the time he jumped off the car his legs were shaky along with the rest of him. He'd forgotten that Nux drove like a goddamned hellion when he was in anything smaller than a war rig. How could he forget that? It had almost killed him, once upon a time. Had almost killed Nux, too. That kid must have been born under a lucky star, for all the crashes he'd survived. And that was just while Max had known him.  
  
Nux jumped out from the driver's seat after he killed the engine and slammed his door. Max cringed at the sound. Too loud for being out here. But Nux had already scurried over to his Interceptor to check it out, making comments and occasional exclamations of excitement as he investigated outside, under the hood, inside, and the undercarriage. His gangly legs were sticking out from the front of it when Max finished taking out some dried fruit and refilling a canteen with water. He sat on a rock and watched as Nux shimmied out from underneath the car and sat up, legs splayed and bent at the knee where his elbows rested.  
  
Silently, Max offered the canteen. Nux took it and sipped on a little, then set it back down. "What are you doing here?" Max finally said, and tossed another piece of dehydrated fruit in his mouth.  
  
"Looking for you, you piece of rust," Nux said, as though it was obvious.  
  
Max was silent for a moment. Blessedly, Nux didn't interrupt with chatter. "Thought you died at the pass," he finally grunted, opting for the direct approach.  
  
Thankfully, Nux didn't need questions to give answers, but he turned oddly somber. "No. Some raiders dragged me out," he said, sounding a little miserable. "Asked Immortan Furiosa for ransom, and she gave it to 'em. I think Capable convinced her."  
  
"She's calling herself Immortan now?"  
  
Nux looked embarrassed and shrugged. "She ain't. She says we shouldn't call her that. But what else am I supposed to call her?"  
  
"Ma'am," Max supplied, without thinking. She seemed like a woman he would have called ma'am, back in the day.

"What?" Nux asked.  
  
"Nothing." Of course, Nux wouldn't know that word. "You left the Citadel."  
  
Nux nodded, but this time didn't offer an explanation.  
  
Max waited a beat, expecting something more. "Why?"

Still, Nux was silent. He was fidgety, though; shifted where he sat, stretched his legs with a wince and pulled them back again, closer this time--protective. "It just...wasn't the same."  
  
Max grunted inquisitively, his eyes trained on an increasingly twitchy Nux.

Finally, the kid jumped to his feet, though the movement caused him to wince, and started to pace, favoring his left leg just a bit. "The Sisters, they just...they don't get it! I mean, everyone had more food and Aqua Cola and everything which is shine but they don't wanna fight anymore. I mean they were running patrols, but the Buzzards and the Raiders ain't causing trouble, trying to get on Immortan's good side 'cause they know they can't beat her and they want the Aqua Cola, and the Sisters keep sayin' how we can't kill anybody unless we have to and we don't, we don't have to hardly anymore! How's anyone supposed to get to Valhalla dyin' soft?" he demanded, turning to Max abruptly. He had grown more agitated, more desperate as he rambled, but he had a look in his eye like he wanted an answer from Max.  
  
"Nux..." Max began, but found he couldn't finish. How do you tell a kid that Heaven isn't real?  
  
"And the other War Boys...I mean we all liked Immortan when she was an Imperator, she was a shine Imperator, so they're fine with her being Immortan now, but they're all saying I traitored him! Says they can't trust me, that I killed Slit. I didn't kill him! I didn't even know he was dead until I got back to the Citadel! I couldn't find even a pup who wanted to be my lancer." He limped over to a rock near Max's and sank down to the sand, leaning against the rock and putting his hands on his head. "And Capable...she's the best thing, most chrome I've ever met, but...she wants me to die soft. How am I supposed to get to Valhalla if I die soft?" he repeated, rubbing his hands over his shaved head and then his face. He kept them there. His breathing was strained, almost a wheeze, and Max was so focused on that it took him a moment to notice Nux was clawing at his scalp. He hit the base of his hand against his forehead a few times, with not an inconsiderable amount of force, and when Max reached over to stop him, he realized the kid was crying. Not sobbing, hardly making any noise at all actually, but steady tears leaking out from his eyes.  
  
"Hey. Quit that," Max said with as much kindness as he could (not a whole lot). He grasped Nux's wrists and pulled his hands down. "Stop."

Nux looked up at him miserably and shook his head. "I thought that was it. Thought it would be shine if I could die historic for Immortan Furiosa and Capable. But they dragged me back. The gates of Valhalla were open to me _again_ and they dragged me back," he said miserably.  
  
Max sighed and finally released the kid's wrists when it seemed he was done literally beating himself up. Now he just had to stop the emotional onslaught Nux was inflicting on himself. But he wasn't good with words. He tried a few times to come up with something, but drew a blank. Finally, he dropped down to the ground where Nux sat and pulled him into a tight, rough hug. The War Boys' culture wasn't a kind one, but it was affectionate, in its own way, and Nux was the most physically inclined person he'd met probably since before civilization came crashing down around their ears. It seemed to work; after a moment, his wheezing eased and Nux grasped Max back, just as tightly, if not tighter. When the hitches in Nux's breath stopped, Max let go, then, a little awkwardly, reached up to grab Nux's head and shake it a little, much like what the kid had done to him earlier. It earned him a tentative grin, and Max smiled a little back. 

"I thought...if I came and found you, I could get another chance, you know? You're out here, I bet you get action," Nux said, looking at Max with huge, hopeful eyes. He still had the grease around his eyes, and the war paint on his face, combined with the scarring on his lips made him look positively skeletal.  
  
Max leaned back on his haunches and gave a little hum, looking around as he considered it. He'd never had a companion before, never wanted one, but...Nux needed help. Max could understand not being able to stay somewhere that was supposed to be home. "Alright," he finally conceded, shortly. "But no more suicide missions."

Nux grinned at him, and didn't agree to the terms. Max immediately regretted his choice.


	3. But You Can't Take the War Out of the Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone surprised that Nux doesn't listen?

"Cliff!" Max screamed over the roar of engines. Nux didn't hear him. He was too close to the car in front of him to see anything. The War Boy's front bumper took out the back fender of the car in front of him, but Nux again rammed the Perentti mercilessly. The Perentti tried to swerve, but Nux followed along and hit the gas again, shoving it closer to the cliff. It was too close. Brakes squealed, and Nux's engine revved. Max cursed.   
  
The two cars moved in jerky counterpoint--Nux pushed, the Perentti resisted. But Nux's engine was stronger than the other car's brakes, and the smell of burning rubber as Max caught up made him choke. Suddenly, the car lurched forward, and Nux's almost followed, coming to an abrupt stop that Max was sure had to cause some kind of injury.  
  
But that's not what he was thinking about.  
  
Nux was already out of the car by the time Max had thrown his Interceptor into park and sprinted over to him. The kid was looking over the side of the cliff, where the car was decimated at the bottom of the two hundred foot drop. Nux turned as he heard Max approach, his eyes wide and bright. "Did you see that, Bloodbag? That was so chrome, I--"  
  
Before Nux could finish, Max grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the side of his car. "What the fuck were you doing? You almost went over that cliff with him!" he snapped, his voice rough.  
  
Nux's grin morphed into an ugly scowl that Max had never seen on his face before. Pain blinded him and he stumbled back, his hands going up to his bleeding nose. Goddamn that headbutting shit. He let it slide when Nux was playing, because he was pretty sure the kid never meant to hurt him--he was just overeager. Not this time, though. It was the first time he'd felt it full force, and it pissed him off.  
  
Nux was standing by the car still, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Max blinked the moisture from his eyes and lunged.  
  
The resulting brawl was quick and dirty. Nux could land hard shots, but Max, despite his height, had some considerable weight on the boy. He ended up straddling him, arms pinned underneath Max's knees, holding him down with sheer size and willpower as Nux bucked and snarled at him. But it wasn't an easy win; Nux had hit him in the gut and there was a cut on his cheek from a blind flying elbow. Not to mention the blood filling his mouth from when Nux had punched him square in the jaw. He was still seeing spots.  
  
They'd found the road into the mountains two days after they had met up, and sure enough, on the first night, they had run into trouble. Would probably find more. It was strange--in the few days they'd traveled together, now and back on Fury Road, Nux had always deferred to him. Thought of Max as a leader, he guessed, for whatever reason. He would go so far as to say Nux was submissive at points, but this was not at all in keeping with what he knew about Nux. "What's your problem?" he demanded when Nux, finally realizing he wasn't getting out of this, calmed.  
  
"My problem? You shoved me," he muttered through his panting, squirming a little. "Fine, you won."  
  
"Yeah," Max affirmed, then carefully stood up, favoring his bad leg.  
  
Nux hesitated, looking a little lost, then got to his feet again. He kept a puzzled gaze trained on Max, and Max stared back at him flatly. What did the kid think Max was going to do? Jump him again?  
  
Finally, apparently satisfied that Max wasn't going to try for round two, Nux went back to the edge to look over the cliff again and grinned. His teeth were bloody. Well, at least Max got at least one good shot in.  
  
"Lookit that, Bloodbag," he said of the wreckage, fondly. "I destroyed it. Did you see? Pushed him right off," he said excitedly, back to the Nux Max knew better. Max was still baffled. They'd just beat the shit out of each other, and Nux was acting as though nothing at all had happened. "Think there's more will be coming?" he asked, turning away to walk back to Max.  
  
"Yes. We should go," he said, walking back over to his car. "Sun's going down soon. We should find cover," he decided, and Nux shouted an acknowledgement as he jumped back into his own car.  
  
He followed Max until they found a shallow cave just off the road, the entrance hidden in a ditch. They pulled the cars in--there wasn't much room leftover, Max could barely open his door enough to slip out of the driver's side without hitting it against the rock wall of the cave. He shut the door and grunted. His bad leg was killing him--he was too old to be getting in tussles with boys. And for no good reason. They hadn't accomplished anything, except thoroughly confusing Max about Nux's behavior.  
  
The kid seemed normal now, as he got out of his own car and retrieved a canteen and some food--some kind of jerky, Max guessed. He wasn't hungry.  
  
They'd switched back to a day schedule when they started up the mountain. It was too hard to see curves and ditches and fallen rocks in the dark, and it wasn't quite as dangerous to be out during the day when there was so much more cover available, as opposed to the open desert. The sun was fully down by now, and a desert chill was setting in. Max pulled his jacket closer around him as he sat across from Nux, both leaning against the tires of their respective vehicles. He stretched his bad leg out and winced, ignoring Nux's questioning glance.   
  
After a long silence, (long as it went, with Nux around, anyhow) Max finally looked at Nux. "What did I say about suicide missions?" he growled.  
  
A look crossed Nux's face that appeared to be a strange combination of embarrassment and indignation. "I had it under control," he muttered.  
  
"Yeah. You were so under control you attacked me," Max said dryly.  
  
Nux looked up at him, arching an eyebrow. "I didn't _attack_ you," he said resentfully.  
  
"What would you call breaking my nose?" And it was broken, for the record. He'd set it back before they started out to find cover.  
  
Nux looked truly lost at that, and shrugged helplessly.  
  
Max sighed and rubbed his forehead. The kid was truly an enigma.  
  
Nux chattered through the evening, as usual, until Max silently got up and went to fetch blankets. He had been particularly handsy that night, resting a palm on Max's leg or nudging his shoulder with his head or inspecting Max's latest cuts and bruises, but when Max stretched out on the ground he didn't expect Nux to crowd his space and lay down almost on top of him. The cave was a little tight, but there was plenty of room for the both of them. But Nux had seemed agitated after the road fight, more restless than usual, so Max didn't say anything just for the opportunity to not be kept up half the night by Nux's tossing and turning if he told the kid to move. He even kept his mouth shut when Nux's hand crept underneath his shirt.  
  
He drew the line at a sharp nip to his neck.  
  
"The fuck was that for?" Max grunted, irritated, and bucked his shoulder, unsettling Nux from where his head had been resting.  
  
"I thought..." Nux began, but trailed off into a confused silence. Max looked down at him just in time to see an idea light up his face, and he didn't like the look of that at all.  
  
Sure enough, before he could react, Nux was on top of him, his arms pinned to his sides, just like how he'd sat on Nux earlier. There was a hand tugging hard at his hair, but before Nux could land a punch Max heaved, leveraging his hips, and managed to flip them over to slam Nux onto his back on the cold cave floor. Nux looked genuinely surprised, panting slightly, red high on his cheeks where the war paint had been fading.  
  
Max glared at him for a moment and was about to speak when Nux shifted and whined, a sound so low in his throat Max almost thought he'd imagined it. Discomfort was never a look he'd seen on a War Boy, but that's what it was. Nux was uncomfortable.  
  
And when Nux's crotch brushed against his hip, Max knew why.  
  
Well. He'd sorely misjudged that. Nux hadn't been trying to fight him.  
  
He was stunned into indecision long enough for a searching hand to find his belt buckle, and he was more surprised than Nux to find he was half-hard himself. A surprised groan escaped him as the slender, calloused hand worked him to full hardness, and he found himself grinding down into it, earning a gasp from Nux when his hip brushed the boy's erection through his loose utility pants. Which were still on. Which Max didn't approve of.  
  
So he went to work at that, slapping Nux's hand away to make room enough for him to yank at the several belts keeping Nux's pants always slung low on his hips. Fucking tease. Jessie had always told him he could get mean sometimes when he got worked up, and he was definitely worked up now. Nux always worked him up, one way or another, but this--touching, grabbing, feeling another person, this was something he'd locked away when he lost Jessie. Even the thought of her now was enough to make him grab at Nux's hardness roughly through his pants, just to hear him yelp and take his attention elsewhere. He'd put all that in a tightly sealed box in his mind, and now Nux had sniffed it out and smashed the box to bits. And of course, it would be Nux. Always pushing like he was, why would that be different in this aspect of life compared to the others?  
  
Finally, he managed to get Nux's pants yanked down enough that he could wrap a hand around his cock. It was long, not too thick (just like the rest of him, Max mused with a smirk) and dripping precum. He didn't have a lot of time to consider the aesthetics before Nux lunged up and bit down hard on his neck, pulling his attention in yet another direction. Max growled and leaned down to return the favor to Nux's lip. Then, he sucked it into his mouth, running his tongue over the vertical scars and savoring the texture. He tried for a kiss but Nux yanked his face away and then reached down to squeeze his cock again, forcing another groan out of Max. "What are you waiting for?" he snapped. "Put it in me."   
  
Max considered that for a moment, then, with his free hand, reached up and shoved three fingers into Nux's mouth, the look in his eye daring Nux to bite. But Nux got the idea and ran his tongue over them, staring up at Max as he wetted the man's fingers. Max shuddered. He only kept them in there long enough to ensure they were slick before he jerked his hand back and moved it to prod at Nux's hole. "Hurry up," Nux growled, and Max complied, shoving one finger in fully. It got him a satisfying grunt, and Nux fell silent. Well. That was one way to shut him up.   
  
The preparation went fast, Max adding another finger each time Nux looked as though he was about to speak, making the kid interrupt himself with a cry or a gasp. But he never protested, and his cock never flagged from full hardness, so Max kept going. When he got that look in his eye again like he might start to egg Max on, Max pulled all three fingers out and put his palm to Nux's mouth. "Spit," he ordered gruffly.  
  
It wasn't the best lube, Max found, after he coated his own dick with it, biting back another groan, and began to press in. In fact, it was barely lube at all. It hurt, going in, and he could only imagine what it felt like for Nux, but far from protesting, Nux dug his heels into Max's back and tried to urge him forward. "Too slow...you're fucking _rust_ , Bloodbag," Nux growled, and Max snapped his hips forward sharply in punishment. But Nux moaned and bucked his hips eagerly, and Max watched in a mixture of arousal and fascination. It made sense, he guessed. From what he gathered, War Boys didn't know much about life beyond pain--it was in everything they did. They sought it out, welcomed it. It was what made them such ruthess warriors.  
  
He set a rough pace, slamming into Nux with increasing strength. Every time he slowed, or softened, Nux reared up to bite at his throat or claw his back or shoulders. The fourth time he tried, Max grabbed his neck and slammed him back down onto his back with a growl. Nux grunted at the impact and squirmed, but Max didn't release his grip, keeping him pinned down with a grasp just this side of too tight. If Nux tried to rear up again, he'd choke himself. Instead, he bucked his hips up, and Max took mercy, moving his hand from the death grip he had on Nux's hip to wrap around his cock again, stroking him in time with his thrusts.   
  
It didn't last much longer after that. Nux came with a slightly strangled moan, his hips twitching frenetically into Max's hand. He clenched around Max's cock as he came, sending a shock of pleasure up Max's spine, and he thrust hard a few more times before he came himself, his hand still tight on Nux's throat as he rested his forehead on the other's chest, panting.  
  
His hands relaxed, but stayed where they were for a moment as he caught his breath--one on Nux's neck and the other on his hip. Both lay there, silent but their harsh breathing, until Max slowly disentangled himself and sat back, a little shocked at his loss of control.  
  
Nux, of course, didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary--he stood on shaky legs to grab a piece of cloth (they had a few cursory damp sand "showers" they sometimes took) to clean himself off. Max realized belatedly he was still mostly dressed. Silently, he tucked himself back into his pants and did them up just as Nux, also fully dressed again, collapsed on the blanket that served as a bed with a groan. Once Max laid down as well, Nux rolled over and weaseled his way back into Max's space. He ended up with his head on Max's shoulder again, arm stuck all the way up Max's shirt and their legs tangled together. It was good, conserved body heat, Max told himself. Still, he felt a little spike of something like satisfaction when he glanced down at Nux, the kid's face pressed into his shirt.  
  
"Chrome, Bloodbag," Nux mumbled.  
  
"My name is Max," he said without thinking.  
  
He only got a grunt in response, and Max couldn't help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex scenes aren't my forte. Constructive criticism is the best!


	4. Paying Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever you borrow, you've got to pay up sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is it. I hope you guys like this chapter. This was the first idea that inspired the work so I'm a little partial to this particular chapter. Thank you so much for reading. Now that I've done one work and gotten so many awesome responses, I'm going to start thinking about doing more. Suggestions or requests are welcome, but they may not always be filled.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading!

They made it to the top of the mountain mostly in one piece. Max found himself a little surprised that no one was up there, but the survivalist in him laughed at the strategist in him. What was there up here? No rivers, not anymore, little shelter. High ground didn't mean anything if you were warring with the elements.   
  
He didn't know what he expected to see on the other side, but he buried the disappointment when he saw the same landscape before him as behind him. More desert, with very few features interrupting the tan, flat land.  
  
Nux was as excitable as ever. "This is taller than the Citadel!" he exclaimed as soon as he launched out of his driver's seat, looking around first the expanse of desert in front of them, then at the mountain they stood atop. "You can see for miles! That looks like a settlement up there, don't it? We'll need some guzzoline by the time we get there," he continued.  
  
Max glanced over at him and frowned a little. The kid was always thinking about guzzoline. Not water or food. He never worried about shortages of that, although Max supposed he was probably used to going without. Come to think of it, he looked skinnier--Max hadn't even thought that was possible. And paler, even without his war paint. How did he look so pale in the desert?  
  
Nux, still rambling about whether they'd have to trade or fight, caught Max staring at him. He fell silent and looked away, back out to the desert, silent now.  
  
"Been eating?" Max asked gruffly.  
  
"I'm not hungry. C'mon, let's go. We still got some hours of light," Nux pressed, already getting back into his own car.  
  
Max didn't ask a lot of questions. Especially with Nux, who seemed to get around to talking about anything Max could possibly want to know about him. But there were things Nux didn't talk about. He never mentioned the nasty cough that he'd had since Max had first met him. He didn't say anything about it when Max caught him spitting blood for no reason. Sometimes he'd get up throughout the night and disappear, only to return half an hour later looking sick to his stomach. Max pretended he was still sleeping.   
  
He could never figure out why Nux's energy unnerved him so much, but on the first day of their drive down the other side of the mountain, he got his answer.  
  
It had been a quiet drive for a little while when Max noticed that Nux's car began to swerve uncertainly. For a while, he ignored it. Maybe the kid was trying to hit lizards on their path--when they didn't see any action, Nux tended to get bored and entertain himself other ways. Max was just glad he'd stopped trying to race. He turned his eyes back to the front to concentrate on the road.  
  
But his concentration didn't last.  
  
The crash of metal into rock made him jerk. He twisted in his seat, half-expecting to see a third vehicle on his tail, but all he saw was Nux's car, the front right wheel tilted into a ditch and the nose smashed in. He stamped on the brakes, and when that wasn't fast enough, he yanked on the e-brake. He thought he felt whiplash, but he ignored it and jumped out to sprint to the crashed car. As he ran, he glanced around to look for places a sniper might hide, fear making his stomach churn. _Where were you, Max?_  
  
Thankfully, the driver's side wasn't obstructed--Nux had run into the mountain, thank God, and the passenger's side had taken the brunt of the force from the rocky wall they were driving along. The sight that greeted him, although not as bloody as he had imagined, was no less terrifying.  
  
Nux was still in the driver's seat, slumped back, and Max's first instinct was to shout at him, ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. As he drew closer, though, and called out Nux's name to no response, dread grasped his chest again. "Nux!" he repeated, throwing open the door.  
  
Pale as ever, Nux sat in the driver's seat twitching uncontrollably, his eyes rolled back into his head. Max dragged him out of the car and laid him on his side. Awful wheezing, choking sounds were coming from his throat, but when Max grasped his jaw to force his mouth open and swipe his finger through to clear his airway, he came up with nothing. Hardly even saliva--the kid was dehydrated. Probably had been his whole life.  
  
Max counted.  
  
The seizure lasted two minutes. Just as he got to one hundred and twenty seven, Nux shuddered once more and fell still. His eyes were open, but glassy and distant.  
  
"Nux. Nux!" Max said, leaning over to try and catch the boy's eye.  
  
Nux blinked and focused, although hazily. "I-I'm fine," he croaked.  
  
Max almost laughed. "Fine? You're not fine. No--" Max planted a hand on his chest and forced him back down when Nux started to sit up. "Stay there. I'll be right back."  
  
By some miracle, Nux obeyed. Max hurried to get a canteen and a rag. He wetted the rag first, then brought both of them over and helped Nux up just enough so he could drink without spilling it everywhere. Then, he dropped the wet, cool rag onto Nux's forehead, and briefly brushed the back of his hand over the kid's cheek. He was hotter than hell, and that was saying something out here.  
  
Nux behaved himself for all of a minute. "I'm fine. I'm alright. I can drive," he insisted again, starting to sit up.  
  
Max snorted. "Like hell," he muttered, glancing at the car. It wasn't worth repairing, and especially not considering Nux wouldn't be driving it. He let the kid sit up, though, and didn't comment when he swayed and coughed, then looked nauseous when he spit out a gob of blood.   
  
When Nux started to get to his feet, Max stood to help him, but Nux snarled and shoved him away. "I don't need your help!" he snapped, half standing. A memory flashed through his mind, Nux clinging to a steering wheel as though it were his lifeline, then lunging up to headbutt his friend in the face. Max backed off.  
  
"Fine. But we're staying here tonight," Max said, with finality. As he started over to bring the Interceptor back so they could hunker down in that ditch Nux had found, he thought he heard Nux mutter a few curses he'd probably picked up from Max himself, but Max ignored him.  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The thing was, Max knew that Nux was sick. All the War Boys were sick. They lived half-lives, most of them, if they were lucky. What he didn't understand was why this felt like a shock.   
  
He didn't sleep that night. Or the next. He stayed up and watch Nux shiver and vomit through night fevers, and he felt more helpless than he ever had in his life. The day after the seizure, he'd kept driving after they (mostly Max--Nux was getting weaker at an alarming rate, he couldn't carry much anymore) moved everything from Nux's car to the Interceptor. Nux complained and griped and threatened when they left his car behind, but when it came down to it he just couldn't drive, and they both knew it.  
  
The second day after the seizure, Max quit driving early. When he pulled to the side of the increasingly rocky road they were on, Nux stirred and growled something. It was the most he'd moved since four hours ago when they loaded up.   
  
A weak hand grasped the handle and Nux stumbled out. He didn't make it one step from the car before he collapsed. Max didn't know if it was from his sickness or the lack of food. He hadn't been able to keep anything down, not even water, and he'd stopped trying.  
  
Max got out and went around the car to check on him. He was sprawled in the dirt, looking like death (Max could have kicked himself for that thought), staring at the sky. His eyes shifted to Max when he bent down next to him with a canteen of water, but Nux pushed it away. "Save it," he rasped. "Waste of aqua cola."  
  
Max gave a grunt of disagreement and slid his hand underneath the back of Nux's head anyway. He was surprised when Nux jerked away--the exhaustion, the sickness had made him compliant lately. This sudden bout of clarity, of strength and personality, calmed his fears. But only for a moment.  
  
"I said save it! I'm dying. You'll need it, I won't," Nux said, bitterly.   
  
"No. Don't say--" Max began frantically, searching for the needles and IV line he'd had. Maybe blood would help. It had helped last time, when Max was just a blood bag and Nux was just a War Boy. His spirits fell when he realized he'd lost it. He remembered, it had gotten yanked off his jacket when he had been trying to get out of the crowds around the Citadel as the people had swarmed to greet their new leader.   
  
"Why not? It's true." Nux blinked hazily up at him, then glared. Max knew it was only to hide the shine of unshed tears that was building up in the boy's eyes. "I'm dying. Dying soft. Don't mean _nothing_."  
  
Max hesitated, then reached out to softly touch the side of the boy's face. It occurred to him he didn't know how old Nux was. It occurred to him he didn't want to know. "I love you," he murmured. He didn't know why he said it, or what he meant by it. It wasn't the romantic, deep set love he would always have for Jessie, nor the intense respect he had for Furiosa and the Wives. It wasn't quite brotherly, or paternal, the things he'd done with Nux, to Nux, precluded that. But it was love, he was sure of that, at least.  
  
"Don't mean _nothing_ ," Nux said again, and Max wasn't sure if the kid was talking about his own death or about Max's words. He wasn't sure it mattered anymore. Nux seemed to be growing delirious, and he didn't try to hide his tears anymore. "I tried...I tried so hard. Tried to make it mean something, you know? Capable said...said maybe I had a manifest destiny, reason why I was still alive. What reason I got to live if I don't die historic? This ain't historic, it's...it's...useless," he rambled, his voice hoarse and almost too quiet to hear. "What's the use?" he muttered.  
  
As Nux fell silent, crying, then not crying, not doing anything at all, just staring up at the desert sky, Max felt understanding weigh on him like a heavy pack on a long walk. Nux didn't care about his love. What was love to a man who had only ever wanted his life to mean something? And now he was dying, practically alone, on some abandoned road in a god-forsaken desert. He was right. It didn't amount to much of anything. War Boys couldn't have meaning in life, their lot in this world had denied them that, and so they sought meaning in death. And that had been stolen from Nux, too. The unfairness of it made Max want to scream and rage, but he just sat there, quietly, next to a dying boy who hadn't gotten a single goddamned break his entire life.  
  
Evening crept up on them, and Max only moved to pull Nux up a little, to hold him. Nux barely seemed to notice. He'd reverted to broken up mumbles some time ago. Max was able to catch a few words...Valhalla...Capable...chrome...historic. A couple times Max thought he caught his own name in there. Maybe he was just imagining it.  
  
As night set, Nux stopped shivering. Max tightened his arms around the feather weight of the boy's body and tried to stave off sobs.  
  
He didn't know exactly when Nux died. He sat like that for a while, trying not to cry into Nux's shoulder and failing.   
  
It was late at night when he finally disentangled himself and laid Nux's body down. He wiped his face vigorously with his hands and stood up. War Boys didn't mourn, and they didn't have funerals. They died historic, in a blaze of fire, or they let the Boys who died soft rot. Threw them into the desert. It felt wrong, but there wasn't a whole lot right anymore.  
  
He drove through the night. He drove, and he tried hard not to think about life, or death, or what comes after. If there was a Valhalla, like Max had just let the kid believe (why did he do that? How could he let a kid die believing he was anything less than worthy of whatever afterlife there was?), Nux didn't get into it, and Max sure as hell wasn't going to either. And he didn't like that thought. So he didn't think about it.  
  
Instead, he kept driving. He was alone again. That was alright. He hoped he'd stay that way for a while.  
  



End file.
